Jeffrey Schultz – XV. The Deaths of Birds

Jeffrey Schultz

XV. The Deaths of Birds

for C. G. Hanzlicek
 

When the realm
Of the image
Yields nothing more
Than gore and the unendurable,
And when then thereafter gore
And the unendurable,
Themselves become
So commonplace
They can no longer
Be unendurable
Or elicit the horror
Appropriate to them,
What at all could hope
To be seen,
To really be seen
As what it is?
I could show
A thousand things
But what could speak
To the matter at hand?
So much, all come
To something
So small as disappointment…
There’s something cruel and vague
About it, and it’s looking to be
The primary thing.
It listens to our calls
And learns to imitate them,
Its sound so like ours.
It flashes like life in the light.
It’s what’s there
For sense to sense.

 

Jeffrey Schultz’s artist statement:

Title of series: Fifteen Variations on Themes from Levis.
In a series of fifteen brief variations, Schultz will meditate on a number of themes–some of them poorly recalled from memory, some of them badly obscured or poorly understood–from Levis’s work.

Marisol Baca – in eights // octaves

Marisol Baca

in eights // octaves

 

At the author’s request, this poem has been temporarily removed. It will return to the site in the future.
 

Marisol Baca’s artist statement:

Over the past 15 days, I have been writing a poem a day. This concentrated workload allowed me to sit face-to-face with poems that I have been wanting to write for a long time— stories that I have wanted to investigate for a long time. It was a difficult thing to do, but the right time to do it. These poems are about exploring the work of a favorite artist of mine and finding out more about my family history. The first eight poems are interrelated and are about the surrealist painter, Remedios Varo. Her paintings evoke wonder and curiosity in me, and I love them. The second set of poems deal with stories about my great grandmother and her sisters. There are some stories in these poems that I have been thinking about for a long time, maybe even years, and have not been able to write until now. Last week I had a dream about my great grandmother standing at the entrance of a doorway telling me to go ahead and get it done. So I did.

“Personaje”
Personaje, 1961.
Oil and Silver / Cardboard Sheet.
© All Rights Reserved 2015, Remedios Varo.
For any use or reproduction of the work, please contact vegap.
Cat.315-Character-1961

“in eights // octaves”
El Flautista, 1955.
Oil and Nacre Embedded / Masonite.
© Copyright 2019.
For any use or reproduction of work, please contact vegap.
Cat. 127-El-Flutista-1955.

Jeffrey Schultz – XIV. Standard Notation

Jeffrey Schultz

XIV. Standard Notation

 

Crow north
Crow north
Crow north
By northeast
Crow falls
Crow-black
From the sky
Crow cries
To darkness
See you, friend,
How lonely
I must die?

 

Jeffrey Schultz’s artist statement:

Title of series: Fifteen Variations on Themes from Levis.
In a series of fifteen brief variations, Schultz will meditate on a number of themes–some of them poorly recalled from memory, some of them badly obscured or poorly understood–from Levis’s work.

Marisol Baca – we have the attic and we have the moon

Marisol Baca

we have the attic and we have the moon

 

we are seated at the the table
we draw a line around the river but we left the river out

we cloud the common tongue
we articulate the dark matter into itself

a purple cotton candy
a set of bangs on brown skin
a float of clouds on freckled skin

crystalline cobbled street
cobwebs in the open spaces
spiders under the ferns in the yard

we look into the round mirror
but we ignore the shadows in the reflection
we have conversations about getting to the party

we look at flat photos of deepest space
as if it is outside of us

as if we forget that when we inhale
we are splashing our hearts with antigravity

slick, stoney, aerial root, anther, bract, villius

a river stone so round and perfect that I need to put it in my mouth

a cloud that falls behind the rest

the moon that is a face and a paper plate

We have to have the attic like we have to have the moon

suspended in the upper consciousness

 

Marisol Baca’s artist statement:

Over the past 15 days, I have been writing a poem a day. This concentrated workload allowed me to sit face-to-face with poems that I have been wanting to write for a long time— stories that I have wanted to investigate for a long time. It was a difficult thing to do, but the right time to do it. These poems are about exploring the work of a favorite artist of mine and finding out more about my family history. The first eight poems are interrelated and are about the surrealist painter, Remedios Varo. Her paintings evoke wonder and curiosity in me, and I love them. The second set of poems deal with stories about my great grandmother and her sisters. There are some stories in these poems that I have been thinking about for a long time, maybe even years, and have not been able to write until now. Last week I had a dream about my great grandmother standing at the entrance of a doorway telling me to go ahead and get it done. So I did.

“Personaje”
Personaje, 1961.
Oil and Silver / Cardboard Sheet.
© All Rights Reserved 2015, Remedios Varo.
For any use or reproduction of the work, please contact vegap.
Cat.315-Character-1961

“in eights // octaves”
El Flautista, 1955.
Oil and Nacre Embedded / Masonite.
© Copyright 2019.
For any use or reproduction of work, please contact vegap.
Cat. 127-El-Flutista-1955.

Jeffrey Schultz – XIII. Local Realism

Jeffrey Schultz

XII. Local Realism

 

Metonymy describes the figural structure
Of contiguity, nearness. The metaphysics
Of the figure begin the chant of their murmuring spell
When contiguity, nearness, is engaged
Complexly in all of its conceptual suggestiveness.
Under such circumstances, the greatest distances
Collapse instantaneously. And yet,
One would never think of Odysseus,
Driving back home around dusk, up 99 into the city
That isn’t a city but rather a town
Untended, overgrown as the orchards
And unkempt vineyards surrounding,
Those hard fields even as they collapse
Into the housing tracts their sprawl
Had already suggested. Everything looks the same
And like nothing at all. I can’t tell you
The last time I even saw any of it,
Though my early work in object permanence
Suggests it must still be right in front of me
And not only this layer of dust, this grudge
Held by the heat. One wouldn’t think
Of Odysseus because what could that help?
Who the hell’s he supposed to be anyway?
What story could have any say here, where water
Detests the earth and yet everything will be made grow?
People are still trying to talk about themselves
And sometimes even others as if there were human beings.
A car I once owned turned up after I sold it
Torched in an orange orchard with a body in the trunk.
The detective seemed satisfied I hadn’t done it,
And after he hung up I never heard another word about it.
We used to skip school in it, listening to music
On a battery powered boombox between us
Because I only had an AM radio in the thing,
Used to drive out into the blossom’d valley distance.
In music, I think what we’re talking about might have to do
With a patterning of the interval, but I don’t pretend
To understand music all that well. The names
Of things are uncountable this evening. Are and is.
Is and are. When will the garbage mountain
South of Jensen alight? When will the image
Stop stalling and fulfill its potential?
O to be near to you tonight, so near that, even here,
Where nothing at all can any longer be imagined,
Even here, when I open the door of you you appear.

 

Jeffrey Schultz’s artist statement:

Title of series: Fifteen Variations on Themes from Levis.
In a series of fifteen brief variations, Schultz will meditate on a number of themes–some of them poorly recalled from memory, some of them badly obscured or poorly understood–from Levis’s work.